#home surveillance devices

[bijlikidukan]

A Closer Look at the Value Behind Smart Entry: Understanding the Real Cost of Modern Video Door Phones

In today's rapidly evolving digital landscape, home security has become more than just a luxury—it's a necessity. As cities grow denser and homes become smarter, the integration of technology into everyday living is becoming second nature. Among the many innovations reshaping home safety, the modern video door phone stands out as a convenient and efficient way to monitor and control entry access.

The concept of video door phones isn't new, but the recent surge in demand has brought with it advanced features, better designs, and more affordable options. One brand that consistently catches the attention of homeowners and apartment developers ali  ke is One Touch. Known for its sleek designs and intuitive interface, One Touch has become a recognizable name in home security solutions. Yet, when it comes to the one touch video door phone price, many buyers find themselves asking—is it worth the investment?

The Evolution of Home Entry Systems

Traditional doorbells are becoming outdated. Today’s homeowner demands visibility, connectivity, and control—features that older systems simply can’t provide. With smart video door phones, you’re not only alerted to someone at the door, but you can also see them in real time, speak to them, and, in some cases, grant access remotely.

What makes One Touch particularly interesting is how it blends utility with user-friendly functionality. Whether you're installing the system in a standalone villa or within a multi-storey apartment complex, the devices are adaptable and designed for seamless installation.

Features That Justify the Price Tag

Many people initially hesitate at the one touch video door phone price, especially when comparing it to traditional intercom systems. However, a deeper dive into the features reveals why it often offers better long-term value:

High-Definition Video Quality: Unlike older systems with grainy visuals, One Touch door phones often come with HD video capability, allowing crystal-clear views of visitors.

Two-Way Audio Communication: Real-time communication without opening the door offers both safety and convenience.

Touchscreen Interface: The intuitive touchscreen panel makes navigation easy even for users who aren’t tech-savvy.

Night Vision Capability: A must-have in any reliable door phone system, ensuring safety round-the-clock.

Expandable Systems: You can often integrate multiple indoor monitors or pair them with CCTV systems, which makes them ideal for larger properties.

What Influences the Price?

Like any technology-based product, several factors influence the final cost of a One Touch video door phone:

Model & Series: Basic models with limited features are obviously more affordable, while high-end variants with AI-enabled motion detection or smartphone integration come at a premium.

Number of Units: A single indoor unit system is less expensive than a multi-unit setup that caters to larger homes or buildings.

Installation Requirements: If the wiring infrastructure is already in place, the installation cost remains minimal. For new setups, additional wiring, drilling, and setup might add to the total expense.

Additional Features: Wi-Fi capability, remote unlocking systems, and mobile app integrations can push the cost higher, but also offer unmatched flexibility and control.

Comparing Cost with Value

In a price-sensitive market, it’s natural to question the value of home security upgrades. However, when weighing the pros and cons, video door phones—especially reliable ones like those from One Touch—tend to offer better ROI compared to standard systems. You’re not just paying for a gadget, but for peace of mind, convenience, and enhanced safety.

Moreover, the aesthetic appeal of these devices adds to the overall value of your home. A well-integrated video door phone system also contributes positively to property valuation—an attractive point for potential buyers or tenants.

Are There Budget-Friendly Alternatives?

Absolutely. The One Touch brand itself has multiple models catering to different budget segments. Entry-level options can be suitable for small apartments or single-entry homes, while mid- and high-range models are better suited for villas or gated communities. It’s best to evaluate your specific needs before choosing a model—sometimes, a mid-range system offers the best balance between cost and functionality.

Final Thoughts

While the one touch video door phone price may seem like a premium investment at first glance, its real value lies in the safety, convenience, and long-term reliability it offers. With modern design, smart features, and a growing reputation for quality, One Touch systems continue to redefine how we think about home access control.

Investing in such a system isn’t just about responding to trends—it’s about future-proofing your home against everyday security risks. In a world where safety and simplicity go hand-in-hand, the question isn’t whether you can afford a video door phone—but whether you can afford not to have one.

Name:- Bijli ki Dukan Address — Ascent Retechno India Pvt LtdShop №04, 05, 06 & 07 AV Crystal, Near Navneet Hospital, Opp. Achole Talav, Nallasopara East, Palghar, Maharashtra — 401209. Phone no — +91 9004580251 Website — https://www.bijlikidukan.com/ Mail — info@bijlikidukan.com Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/people/Bijli-ki-Dukan/61564848986473/ Instagram — https://www.instagram.com/bijlikidukan

[6mayhem]

google how to stop being convinced that the world will end in 2030. google how to stop thinking we are barreling towards the end of the tracks and everything will explode. google

[madelineashby]

Come fly with us, August 13 2024.

[mayra-quijotescx]

"'printer from 2004' 'loaded gun'"

That rather incriminating-looking duckduckgo search actually IS my villain origin story, in a way, because I was in a very particular mood about tech bro bullshit today and went looking for an image that encapsulated that mood.

The image is a screenshot that goes like this: "Tech Enthusiasts: Everything in my house is wired to the Internet of Things! I control it all from my smartphone! My smart-house is bluetooth enabled and I can give it voice commands via alexa! I love the future! Programmers/Engineers: The most recent piece of technology I own is a printer from 2004 and I keep a loaded gun ready to shoot it if it ever makes an unexpected noise."

[digitaldreams04]

Top Smart Security Devices: Best Cameras, Doorbells, Locks & More for a Safer Home

🔒 Protect Your Home 24/7 with Smart Security Tech!

Keep intruders out and monitor your home in real-time with the best smart security devices—cameras, video doorbells, smart locks, and more! Get alerts, recordings, and remote access for ultimate peace of mind.

📹 HD video & night vision 🔔 Two-way audio & motion alerts 🔐 Keyless entry & auto-locking

👉 Secure your home today!

[gaurik27]

https://heyjinni.com/read-blog/221587_smart-eyes-everywhere-a-deep-dive-into-home-surveillance-device-trends.html

[croydivision]

🚪🔔 Upgrade your front door in just 5 minutes with the new Ring Battery Video Doorbell (2024)! Wireless, easy to install, and gives you a full HD head-to-toe view of every visitor 📲💬 Plus, get a 30-day free trial of Ring Protect. Perfect for renters, homeowners & anyone who wants peace of mind. #SmartHome #RingDoorbell #HomeSecurity #DIYTech

[iydiamartinx]

UNEXPECTED GUESTS II

jason x reader, platonic!damian wayne

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto& @omi-resources word count: 857 synopsis: Jason’s secret relationship is discovered by Damian—who keeps showing up uninvited. Jason’s patience is tested, popcorn is made, but at least Damian brought cinnamon rolls. a/n: y’all I’m still new to posting on tumblr, idk how to respond to your reblogs, but thank you for all the love!!

It started with a puzzle.

Then it became a movie.

Then it was breakfast.

Then game night.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened, but somewhere between Damian’s first drop-in and now, he had quietly and confidently moved in emotionally. No key, no warning—just a kid who appeared at your door like a stray cat who decided you were his human now.

Jason was not amused.

“Babe,” he muttered one night, standing in the kitchen with a towel slung over his shoulder, “I think he lives here now.”

You didn’t even look up from where you and Damian were halfway through a Harry Potter movie marathon. “He brought cinnamon rolls. That buys him, like, three hours.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “That’s what you said yesterday.”

“And yet here we are. With cinnamon rolls.”

Damian didn’t even glance away from the TV. “You’re welcome.”

It didn’t stop.

Damian started showing up with snacks. Then books. Then a bonsai tree that he insisted would bring “calming energy” to the apartment—though Jason was convinced it was a surveillance device.

The turning point was when Jason came home from patrol to find you and Damian doing face masks while bickering over whether Batman could take John Wick in a fight, without prep time.

“I hate it here,” Jason muttered, dropping onto the couch like gravity had personally wronged him.

“No, you don’t,” you said, patting the spot beside you.

Damian looked smug. “You should exfoliate more. Your skin is tired.”

Jason looked like he aged five years on the spot.

Meanwhile, across Gotham, the rest of the Bat-family had questions.

“He skipped patrol again,” Tim muttered, narrowing his eyes at the tracker on his screen. “He’s somewhere in Crime Alley, but he’s not moving. That’s not like him.”

“He’s not fighting crime?” Dick asked, frowning as he squinted at the grainy feed Tim managed to pull from one of Gotham’s ancient surveillance cameras. “Is he injured?”

“No,” Tim said, zooming in. “I think he’s… playing Monopoly?”

Dick raised an incredulous eyebrow. “He’s doing what?” 

Tim leaned closer. “Wait—never mind. That might be a bomb.”

“I’m following him tonight,” Tim declared. “See what he’s hiding.”

“I’m going with you,” Dick said. “Damage control. Just in case he really has joined a criminal syndicate without telling Bruce.”

That night, they tailed Damian across rooftops, watching as he made his usual unannounced entrance into Jason’s apartment through the fire escape like it was a routine—and it was. By now, you’d already prepped hot cocoa, and a blanket was folded on the couch just for him.

Jason wasn’t home yet. Which meant Damian had free reign.

When Tim and Dick peered through the neighboring rooftop window, they expected secrets. Schematics. Maybe even an underground lab.

What they found was you and Damian arguing about whether waffles or pancakes were the superior breakfast food while watching John Wick in an aggressively cozy blanket fort.

Tim blinked. “Is that a fort?”

“Oh my god,” Dick whispered. “He has a fort buddy.”

Jason returned an hour later, tired, sweaty, and one patrol away from an identity crisis. 

He prayed Damian was gone so he could finally have some alone time with you. Every time he tried to initiate anything romantic, the little demon just happened to be there—coincidentally, of course.

But what awaited him was somehow worse.

The moment he stepped inside, he froze.

Dick and Tim were seated at your kitchen table, sipping cocoa. Damian was calmly painting from he sat beside you, and you looked like you were completely unfazed by the three vigilantes in your living room.

“Don’t say it,” Jason groaned, setting his helmet down.

“We followed Damian,” Dick grinned. “Turns out he’s been living a double life.”

Tim nodded solemnly. “I think he’s cheating on us.”

Jason dragged a hand down his face. “Of course you idiots followed him.”

“Her cooking is nearly on par with Pennyworth’s,” Damian said casually, not looking up from his brushwork. “And she doesn’t interrupt me when I’m watching Lord of the Rings.”

Dick raised a brow. “Lord of the Rings?”

“It’s a cinematic masterpiece,” you replied without missing a beat and Dick didn’t question it. 

“We just wanted to meet the person responsible for his personality transplant,” Dick said with a teasing smile. “He’s been nice lately. It’s suspicious.”

You shrugged. “We made a deal. He’s nice to everyone else, and I let him pick Friday night movies.”

Tim gestured dramatically. “She tamed the demon.”

Jason looked up to the ceiling like he was searching for divine intervention. “Why are all of you here?”

“We came for answers,” Tim said.

“We stayed for the snacks,” Dick added.

“And the Wi-Fi,” Tim finished.

Jason looked at you.

You smiled sweetly. “Cinnamon rolls?”

He sighed, walked into the kitchen, and took one off the tray. “I hate all of you.”

But he didn’t leave.

Not when you handed him his mug. Not when you leaned into his side. Not even when Damian held up his newest painting like it was the Mona Lisa.

Jason looked around his overcrowded apartment—full of noise, cocoa, and chaos.

“…You’re all sleeping on the floor.”

← Previous Chapter ✯ Next Chapter →

[sensitiveseal]

I FINALLY GOT THE SEASON PASS FOR FAR FRY 6 IM SO HAPPY!!!!

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO IM SO STOKED FOR U!!!!!!!!!!!!! have fun!!!!!!

[sinnerzforsaintz]

//Should I write a drabble for the bot? I should write a drabble for the bot lol

[reidmotif]

I’ve Got My Eye On You

Summary: Reader is a Special Surveillance agent assigned to spy on Spencer. He manages to see through her cover, and thoroughly enjoys the confrontation that follows.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, f!masturbation, slight dubcon regarding recorded sex, heavily based on that one scene in scandal, iykyk.

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

I’d always been good at watching people. 

My life had been spent mostly to myself, divulging the information people offered without even realizing. When you talk less, you learn that body language, passing remarks, or even the quirk of an eyebrow gives away more than anyone ever realized– maybe more than an actual conversation at times. 

And I took it all in stride, not a single detail left unanalyzed. People were always surprised when I’d mention my observations, finding a way to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation, those around me wondering how on Earth I could’ve been privy to that. I’d always shrug at their queries. 

Pay more attention, I guess. 

It wasn’t a surprise that I’d ended up here, I suppose, in the end, as an Investigative Specialist for the FBI. I doubt that my listening skills were exactly what landed me the job, but I’d like to believe they contributed more than they actually did. Regardless, I’d never expected the result of the decisions I’d made over the years to lead to this– involved in spying on an agent of our own. 

The infamous "Dr Reid".

His specific circumstances had been shrouded in secrecy and mystery, apparently having just been let out of prison. (Prison? How’s he an agent then? Anyway, not my problem).

 The Bureau had been curious about erratic behavior on his part, and the string of discrepancies involving the unit he was involved in. Apparently, there had been multiple unforeseen and unprecedented events all occurring under the same team in a relatively small time-frame, and despite smaller investigations, nothing came out of them to warrant any real disciplinary action.  Probably why they brought me in, in the hopes of changing that. 

I’d been assigned to put up small, virtually undetectable cameras and listening devices within his apartment. 24/7 home surveillance, no exceptions. I couldn’t help but think that the guy really should invest in better apartment security, despite how easy his naivete made my job. His lack of caution surprised me, given the details I’d been given. For a guy who had a penchant for being framed by the ghosts of his past, he sure didn’t live like it.  Even as an FBI agent, he essentially had no technology to counter my own, and the height of his protection was a standard deadbolt. Was he insane? Unaware, somehow? Only time would tell, I suppose. And I had plenty of that, to watch and deduce the nature of his mind on my own terms. 

My time spent with Spencer resulted in one, overwhelming conclusion. Spencer Reid lived a relatively quiet life. His apartment was barely used, honestly, given the sporadic nature of his job. (Which was a shame, in my opinion, because it’s a nice apartment).  When he was at home, he seemed to remain quite unassuming. The positions I’d see him assume often were that of being hunched over on an aging leather sofa, pouring himself into grading papers, or creating lesson plans for his students. Oh, right. Did I mention he was also a professor? He is. I’d assume he likes the job, given how much of himself he gives into it, or maybe that was just who he was as a person. I wasn’t sure yet. 

I monitored his life outside of the apartment occasionally as well, just to see what intel I could gather with further investigation. There wasn’t much. Coffee shops. Book shops. Coffee. Books. Coffee- God, does the guy do anything else with his life? 

Most days, though, I’d liken him to butter spread too thinly over toast. Sleepless from nightmares that would have him walking around his apartment until daylight broke through the window panes. I felt exhausted just watching the guy, and it seemed insane that he could continue to live on when he left that apartment at the break of dawn. It didn’t seem like he had anyone to talk to, honestly. From what I was seeing, he wasn’t a threat to the Bureau, just a sad, middle-aged man who’d been dealt the most unfair of hands in life. 

I’m sure there’s a moral somewhere in all that. To waste your potential on something that gives so little back. Oh, well. My report was nearly finished at this point, and the most I could recommend the higher-ups was to get Spencer a better therapist, maybe. This one wasn’t really helping, it seemed. Besides that, his personal behavior wasn’t indicative of anything worrying to the interests of those managing him. 

At long last, it was my final night of watching him. Coincidentally, the date lined up with Halloween, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally be free of this specific survey job. Don’t get me wrong, Spencer seemed nice- but God, his life was boring. I don’t want to say it was like watching paint dry,  out of respect, but previous targets had offered at least some part of their life to be interested within. Spencer had nothing. No friends over, no gossip-like phone conversations, no drunk wanderings home. Nothing! I know he didn’t sign up to be watched, but God. 

Like, come on. Give me anything here. 

Needless to say, I’d become accustomed to the quiet, and this night was no different. If he was following schedule, he should be home right about … now. 

Now? 

Now… 

Silence. 

Spencer was definitely a creature of habit, so to not see him adhere to the routine he’d so meticulously stuck to in the past was a bit jarring, but I assumed he was just running late. 

A few hours later, I reasoned he must be running really really late. It was bordering on midnight, and he still wasn’t home. I checked train schedules, possible reports of a car crash, just about anything that could keep him from his scheduled appearance at home. 

I was just about to call my supervisor to look into whether or not he’d been called out on a surprise case, but that’s when the door of his apartment creaked open, and I felt my shoulders deflate in relief. Okay, he was home. He was going to go to bed and- 

He wasn’t alone. 

Spencer was dressed in all black, a leather belt adorned with a gold belt buckle being the only color his outfit brought. He wore tiny devil’s ears upon his head, the headband pushing down on the mop of curls that sat atop his head. He looked absolutely delicious, if I must say myself, and it seemed the woman in his arms would agree with me. 

He practically pulled her into his apartment, kicking his door in with his leg before slightly fumbling with the lock. As soon as the mechanism slipped into place, his hands were all over her, pressing her flush against his body, as if he couldn’t bear to have any space between them. 

For all the time I’d been watching him, none of his behavior indicated the presence of any kind of significant other, so this girl must be a stranger. If this is how Spencer treated strangers though, I was surprised he didn’t have a barrage of women lining up at his door every night. 

His lips absolutely devoured the girl, his hand cradling the side of her face, before his thigh slipped in between her legs, possibly to soothe a building ache that had built up there in the time they’d spent together, which I found entirely possible, considering I, personally, was heated from simply watching. 

I watched the pixels on the screen with such precision, innocuous shades of red, green and blue painting the most sinful of images. I found myself noting the way his hand snuck up the girls’ dress, the way her breathing hitched as she pulled back, watching as Spencer presumably played with her clit. I could feel myself squeezing my thighs together, recognizing just how wrong it was to be turned on by the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a target had behaved sexually in front of me. (Or in front of the camera, I suppose.) I’d seen and heard just about anything you could think of, but this was different- in a way. To see Spencer so filthy, so confident, so- interesting. It lit a fire in me that burned with every passing moment he touched this girl. 

I’m able to watch him circle over her panties in a way that has her groaning directly into his ear, a smug grin plastering his face as he watches her every reaction. 

“Like that?” He murmurs, and I’ve never heard his voice so fucking deep.

She nods frantically, and it only serves to widen his grin. I can feel myself rocking slightly in my own chair, doing anything to try and soothe the fast growing arousal within me, unable to stop from imagining myself in her place. His hands, the feel of hot breath down my neck- 

I’m stopped dead in my tracks, however, when his eyes suddenly shift to the camera closest to him, his eyebrow raising, as if in challenge. He continues to whisper in the girl’s ear, and has the galls to wink. I’m horrified, a very sudden and intense heat rising to my cheeks. I can only watch for a second more, before he’s suddenly pulling her away, and I realize he’s taken her  within one of the only blind spots within the apartment. 

I’m scrambling to turn off the feed, stunned into silence whilst, my heart beating uncontrollably and eccentrically. Oh god. He knew. He knew and he did that?! 

I stare into the empty space, a multitude of thoughts inhabiting my brainscape. On one hand, the aplomb shown in that situation was commendable, since most people would react to the knowledge that they’d been secretly watched in their own home for the past few months in a much more hostile way. On the other hand, how did he even acquire that knowledge? The cameras were virtually undetectable, and he’d never let on that he was aware of their presence, and I’d know, considering how closely I’d watched him. 

I shake off the thoughts, focusing on something other than the overwhelming mortification coursing through me now.  

Alright, tomorrow, get into his apartment, remove the cameras, and hopefully never have to look at the man again. In any capacity, honestly. 

When daylight broke, I turned on the cameras for the final time, a bit more sheepish, knowing he was aware of the devices plaguing his home. However, it seemed like he was once again pretending like he wasn’t aware of the looming existence of them, sending his female companion off her merry way once they woke up, before going about his normal routine, heading out of the apartment for what was most likely his morning coffee and then afternoon lecture at the university. 

That was my cue. I turned off the cameras,  quickly making my way out to sneak into his residence, the heavy door offering little resistance to my advances, my movements quiet and undetectable. 

I’m  in the process of removing the final camera I had placed in his bedroom, hidden behind a copy of  The Sign of Four. Doyle. He had good taste, I could give him that. 

I’m just about to turn around and get the hell out of there, when I hear a voice behind me. 

“I noticed that one first, you know.”

I turn around slowly, embarrassed and slightly fearful to find Spencer’s eyes meeting mine. I’d watched him for so long, but seeing him now– his eyes were so beautiful. The camera didn’t do him justice.

He continues, despite the silence. “The other ones were harder to spot, I’ll give you that, but once I knew where they were, it was a bit obvious, don’t you think?” 

I’m speechless. My mouth is agape, and all he seems to do is smile at my lack of prose. 

“Don’t look so surprised. I know this apartment. I’m not here a lot, but I spend enough time to know when things have been shifted around.” His tone is cheeky, and he pauses, almost theatrically to add on:

“I’m sure you knew that though.”  His smile turns into more of a smirk. 

God, did he have to be so hot?

“Are you going to complain to the Bureau?” I manage out, keeping my eyes steady on him. 

“Did you find anything of note to tell them?” He responds, tilting his head with curiosity. 

I shake my head vehemently. “No, um. Nothing pertinent to say.” I get my words out in a hurry, my gaze continually trained on him. 

He meets my eyes with the same stare. “Then I don’t have much of a reason to complain.” 

I nod solemnly. I’m wondering where this situation will lead- what either of our next moves are. Before I can ponder long though, he surprises me and takes a step closer.

“I saw you, you know.” He says. “Thought I was going insane when the same pretty girl kept showing up at the bookstore and coffee shop out of the blue, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.” 

“Oh.” I whisper. I really wasn’t as good as I thought I was. 

“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up.” He says, chuckling with some mirth. “Again, I’m observant. I notice these things. That, and you’re pretty.” He says, forward. “So, more of a reason to notice.” 

“Oh.” I reply, yet again, dumbfounded by the events currently transpiring. 

“Yes, oh.” He chuckles, before he starts to move closer yet again. “Tell me. Were you watching last night?” He murmurs, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he directly addresses the elephant in the room. 

I give a movement of affirmation, because at this point, what could he do? What could I do? 

“So you saw.” He mumbles, moving to position himself right in front of me, his eyes darkened and laser focused on my figure. 

“Yes.” I whisper, my voice hushed as our proximity decreased, his breath fanning out over my face now. I’d be uncomfortable, if I wasn’t so distracted. 

“Tell me.” He whispers, letting his calloused finger finally touch my skin, running down my neck. “Did it turn you on? Watching me with her?” 

I feel the familiar heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, my eyes suddenly widening not only due to the sudden proximity, but also the scandalous nature of his words. Did he mean for me to watch? Was that his plan all along? What was this sick and twisted game he was playing?

“Did it.. get you off?” He whispers, his lips leaning in to kiss lightly at the side of my neck where his finger once was. 

I freeze, leaning into his touch and going statue-like all at once. I can’t help the shakiness of my voice when I reply. “I.. wasn’t neutral.” 

“Mm.” He murmurs, kissing now at my jawline. “Did you get off? When she did?” He whispers.

“I didn’t watch that long.” I reply, helplessly, as I feel his hands start to envelop my waist, pulling me closer to him. 

“What a shame.” He mumbles. “I think you would’ve liked the show. I did it for you.” 

At this point, I can barely speak, a slight moan escaping me instead of a coherent reply as his lips continue to leave warm, wet kisses on the expanse of my flesh. 

“I’m sure you’re curious.” He says, his voice soft and seductive. “Would you like me to show you what we did?”

There’s no hesitation, finally, a resounding thought I can translate from brain-to-mouth for him, in complete certainty.

“Yes.” I manage out, breathlessly. 

He makes a noise of satisfaction, quickly pushing me onto the bed. 

“I’d already gotten her wet by touching her before, but if my suspicions are correct.” He murmurs, his hands working deftly to undo my jeans and feel the wetness that had accumulated in between my thighs. “You already are.” He finishes. 

I let out a small whimper as his fingers touch the heated flesh, unable to help my sensitivity to his small, calculated strokes over my clit through my underwear. His fingers starts to move a bit more aggressively, upon feeling the wet patch that had formed there, the flimsy fabric doing little to hide the stickiness he was now collecting on his fingers. He quickly pulls them off as well though, bringing his slightly damp fingers to his mouth, tasting the hint of my arousal that had accumulated there. His eyes were dark, watching my face for any reaction, and in that moment, I know all he can see is pure want. 

I can see the same hunger within his eyes, and I feel a rush of pride as the approval radiates off of him. 

“What next?” I whisper, already desperate for his next slew of ministrations. I don’t care how needy I looked. I was needy. I’d spent so long watching him, and now he was here.

“She wanted my mouth.” He murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over my clit, his tongue running against plump, pink lips, wetting them, watching over me with a predatory gaze. 

Before I can respond, he’s suddenly everywhere, ducking his head and allowing his tongue to brush over my sex in broad, wet strokes. My response is immediate, my hips bucking up to meet him in a frenzied motion. It seems that he relishes in whatever control he can have in this situation, because he quickly holds down my hips in a firm grip, squeezing the fat there while he continued to ravage me. 

I can barely look at him, pretty brown locks splayed in his face, his lips moving hypnotically against my cunt. Little whimpers escape me, absolutely aching for more. He seems to catch on, and flicks his tongue over me, before suckling against my clit. It’s wet, messy, and the picture of debauchery– and it’s enough to drive me over the edge, my hands gripping the sheets as I cry out his name. 

He seems to be unaffected, getting off his knees, his mouth glistening with my release. The sight makes me wish he could do it again, but before I can get a word in, he’s positioning himself over me, caging me against the bed. 

“Then I fucked her.” He whispers, starting to undo his belt with his free hand. “Can I?” 

I nod, feeling a wave of anticipation, before registering the sensation of the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I feel my chest tighten, watching him with bated breath, absolutely exhilarated. 

“Relax.” He whispers, kissing the lobe of my ear. “You’re in good hands.” 

He utters the last word, before sliding into me, a hushed gasp leaving the both of us. He groans in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the feel of my warm, wet cunt around him. He takes a moment, before he’s setting a steady pace, his hips bucking rhythmically into me in a way that’s designed to bring us both so much pleasure. 

I can’t help the string of moans that come out with every slide of his cock inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer than he already is. My hands grip onto his shirt, clawing onto the fabric to find any purchase, wanting– no, needing him on me. 

Is it odd to wish a stranger could crawl into your skin itself? 

“Fuck, Spencer.” I moan, unabashedly. “You feel so good.”

“You do too.” He groans, his arms braced on either side of my head before gently lowering himself to crash his lips against mine in a messy kiss. 

I can feel myself barreling towards release, as is he, if the twitch of his cock inside me were to mean anything. It’s not long before his hand reaches in between where our bodies are met, rubbing my clit in fast, small circles. It’s intense in the best way possible, my body barely being able to process how good it felt in the moment. 

“Come for me.” He moans, in between kisses. “Wanna feel you around me. Please.”

I can’t help but obey his words, my cunt convulsing around him in obedience as he subsequently finds his release inside me, groaning loudly as his hips thrust erratically. 

He pulls out, and we’re a tangle of limbs, sweaty and sated, breathing heavy. 

Of course, it’s him, yet again, to break the silence. 

“Two things.” He mumbles, breathlessly. 

“Mm.” I reply, weakly, my head a mess of airiness and complacency after the orgasm he’d just brought me to. 

“One. I want your name.” He says, rolling to his side to get a better look at my face. 

“That can be arranged.” I murmur, nodding dreamily. 

“Second.” He whispers, kissing my cheek. His voice takes on a teasing quality to it, before leaning to brush his lips against my ear.  

“You missed a camera. Behind the plant. They don’t stop recording, do they?” 

okay wowww. clearly this was meant for halloween, if you couldn't tell! this is one of those pieces where i'm like.. hmm .. do i like this? question mark? do i want to put it out? hmm .. but regardless, i hope you guys enjoyed it!! please, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!!! it is sooo important as an author that i get some feedback and know what you guys think, in any capacity. i truly appreciate all of it <33 thank you for reading, thank you for everything!!!

[hearts4hughes]

YOU SHOULD REALLY CHANGE YOUR PASSWORD, SWEETHEART.

warnings: stalking / obsession ; home invasion ; voyeurism ; non-consensual surveillance ; yandere undertones ; masterbation (m)

⋆｡°✩

he knows the sound of your heartbeat when you’re lying.

he waits until all the lights go out.

not just you’re bedroom—all of them. the kitchen, the hallway, that little lamp you always forget on the living room shelf. rafe gives it fifteen minutes. just long enough for you to settle into a slumber; just long enough for your breathing to even out and for you to fall into your dream state.

he knows your rhythm. he’s memorized it.

the window creaks when he slides it up. a soft gasp of air, nothing more. you don’t hear it. you couldn’t.

he lands like a shadow on the hardwood. he’s calm and controlled. he takes a deep breath. he’s done this before.

his fingers brush over the framed photos on the wall. the one of you at the beach, the blurry one with your friends at some concert, even the old prom photo of you and some douche (he made a mental note to track him down later). you always have that same smile. that soft, innocent smile, like you have no idea how dangerous the world is.

it is…but with him around, you’ll never have to worry.

he walks past your bedroom, peering through your door. it’s open just enough for a sliver of your sleeping body to come into view. he lets his hand hover on the doorknob for a second. he listens, and there it is; that small sigh.

his cock twitches in his pants.

he keeps going. past the hall closet, past your bathroom.

he finds your laptop on the desk in the corner of the living room. it’s still warm with your touch. you always forget to shut it down.

you just make it too easy, sweetheart.

he lifts the lid, the screen illuminates your login page staring back at him like it’s daring him to try. he slides into your chair, his fingers hovering the keyboard. he doesn’t guess randomly. He’s patient; precise—ward always taught him to be.

first try is your birthday. huh, maybe you’re smarter than you seem. second try is your middle name and the street you grew up on.

still nothing. third try—

he pauses and smirks. his fingers click against the keyboard, typing in the name of your dog and adds the year you graduated.

The screen blinks and unlocks.

welcome, y/n

rafe exhales like a lover. a small smile graces his lips as he clicks through your laptop. spotify, google chrome, notes, documents, and then…a folder.

it’s tucked deep into your files. the name is a random pattern of numbers and letters, like it was meant to be a secret only between you and your device.

when he opens it, he stills. then he grins.

the photos open slow. almost as if your computer wants to savor them too. but rafe…he doesn’t breathe for a second.

because there you are—bathed in soft, amber lighting, cropped just enough to feel private, but not enough to hide what matters. your skin, your thighs, and that little silk thing you only wore once. it was all on display for him.

you didn’t know it when you took them, but these were meant for him.

his tongue grazes the inside of his cheek, slow. god, you’re stupid…or trusting…or both. now here you are, spread out in digital stillness, pixel-perfect, and completely exposed.

his fingers hover above the trackpad, just lightly scrolling through picture by picture. in one, you’re biting your lip. in another, you’re turned away, showing no face, just curve. but he knows it’s you. god, he could trace you in the dark.

slowly, he spreads his legs. his eyes don’t leave the screen. he leans forward slightly. smirking. “you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be,” he murmurs, the words barely a breath. “you wanted me to find these.”

the thought makes his stomach tighten and his cock stiffen.

you’d hate this. you’d scream, maybe cry, maybe call the cops, but maybe there’s a part of you that likes it.

rafe’s head tilts, eyes dragging slow across your image. the way your hand rests on your own thigh. the way your lips are parted. the photo may end, but his imagination doesn’t.

he exhales through his nose, a lazy smile curling. “you wanted to be watched,” he whispers. “i’m just giving you what you wanted.”

his hand undoes his jeans and within seconds, he’s out of his confines. his hand wraps around himself as he imagines.

he pictures the way your mouth curls when you speak, the way your fingers grip your sweater when you’re nervous, the way you’re peacefully asleep in the next room, blissfully unaware.

his hand moves slow. not on you, not really, but with you in his mind. the way you look in those photos, god, he’s already close.

you make it easy. you smile like you don’t know what that does to him. you live like no one’s paying attention. but he is.

he knows your schedule. your passwords. the sound of your laugh from two floors down. he knows what kind of gum you chew when you’re anxious, and that you always over-water your plants.

and when he closes his eyes, it’s so simple to pretend you’re here. for him. just for him. it’s over fast. he never lasts long with you on his mind. his release paints his hands and your shaky ikea table.

he sighs, his bottom lip bloody from suppressing his moans. he grabs the nearest box of tissues (yes, he knows the locations of boxes in your house), and erases the scene. he throws the ball of dna in your pink, glittery trash can.

and when you wake up the next morning, still warm in your skimpy tank top and those thin pajama shorts, you stretch like no one watched you sleep. like the air in your room wasn’t disturbed. like the scent of him isn’t still clinging to your apartment.

you don’t notice the shift— not for now.

you taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @13hischiers @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @rafestoothbrush @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @r0vena @heartzshiftamy @bibissparkles

[narxcisse]

★ — General yandere Viktor headcanons

Yandere!Viktor x GN!Reader

CW: Obsession and yandere behaviors, surveillance and control, manipulation, forced proximity, Vik pretends to depend on you occasionally, isolation(?), takes place in s1

English isn't my native language

Viktor’s analytical nature extends to his obsession. Once he’s fixated on someone, they become the center of his world, overshadowing even his work.

He memorizes every detail about you—your habits, preferences, quirks, and routines. This knowledge is meticulously stored and analyzed to "understand" you better.

Rationalizes his possessiveness as care. He believes he’s the only one who can protect you, especially from the chaos of Zaun and Piltover.

He subtly manipulates circumstances to keep you away from others, framing it as concern for your safety.

Any perceived threat to you triggers his protective instincts. He can be dangerously calculating when dealing with rivals or anyone who might harm you.

He uses his Hextech knowledge to develop devices that monitor or safeguard you—tracking bracelets, automated sentinels, or surveillance systems disguised as gifts.

Viktor uses his calm demeanor to guilt-trip you into compliance. He’ll lament how much he sacrifices for you, subtly steering your choices.

He’ll portray himself as overworked or burdened, implying that your support and closeness are the only things keeping him going.

Viktor impresses you with his intelligence, subtly reinforcing the idea that he’s irreplaceable.

He ensures you rely on him emotionally or practically, making it difficult for you to leave.

He might push himself to the point of exhaustion and subtly blame you for not being there to stop him, saying things like, "If I had you by my side, perhaps I wouldn't push myself this far."

If you ever try to distance yourself, he may consider using his technology to "fix" you, claiming it’s for your benefit.

Viktor’s obsession is methodical. He won’t lash out irrationally but will quietly remove obstacles or manipulate situations to keep you close.

Around you, Viktor shows a softer side that no one else sees (Maybe Jayce sees it sometimes too), making it hard to view him as a threat.

Viktor may mark his territory with small, easily overlooked gestures—insisting you wear a scarf he gave you or leaving his inventions in your home.

Don't underestimate his cane, if you try to run away, he will easily knock you out with it.

If pushed too far, Viktor can become dangerously unhinged. In rare moments of desperation, his calm facade may crack, revealing just how far he’ll go to keep you.

It starts innocently enough—or so it seems. Viktor’s health has been deteriorating more visibly over the past few days. You notice the way he winces when he moves, the increasing reliance on his cane, the exhaustion written across his face.

He brushes off your concern at first, but one night, you find him sitting in his chair, his head resting heavily in his hand, looking utterly defeated.

"I thought I could endure this alone," he says quietly, his voice hoarse with fatigue. "But... I fear I cannot."

You freeze. Viktor has always been stoic, resilient, unwilling to admit weakness. To see him like this sends a pang through your chest.

"I didn’t want to burden you," he continues, his amber eyes meeting yours, glassy with an emotion you can’t quite place. "But it’s becoming harder... to keep going without someone to rely on. Without you."

He doesn’t explicitly ask for anything, but his words hang heavy in the air. You feel his unspoken plea.

"Perhaps it’s selfish," he murmurs, leaning back in his chair as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. "But... your presence eases the pain. When you’re near, I feel... stronger."

The way he looks at you—so "vulnerable", so "dependent"—makes it impossible to say no.

"Stay tonight," he says after a pause, his voice almost a whisper. "Just for a while. I need to know you're here."

You hesitate, but his hand reaches out, brushing yours lightly. His touch is cold but steady, grounding in a way that feels both comforting and suffocating.

"Please," he adds softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I... don’t want to be alone tonight."

Against your better judgment, you agree. He guides you to sit beside him, his arm brushing against yours. For a while, it’s quiet. Then, almost tentatively, he leans closer, his head resting against your shoulder.

---

After some time, he shifts, feigning discomfort. "Forgive me," he murmurs, his voice strained. "The pain... it’s worse tonight. Would you... hold me? Just for a moment?"

You blink in surprise, but before you can respond, he adds, "I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t unbearable. I just... need to feel that someone cares."

You reluctantly oblige, wrapping your arms around him. He lets out a soft sigh, almost as if in relief, and his own arms tentatively encircle you.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "You have no idea what this means to me."

Even as you sit there, his hold tightens subtly, possessively, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

As the night wears on, you start to feel a creeping realization that this might not have been as innocent as it seemed. Viktor, however, seems content, his gaze soft but calculating as he holds you close.

"Perhaps... you could stay again tomorrow?" he murmurs, the faintest smile playing on his lips. "For my recovery, of course."

[optimusxwbu]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ mtmte megatron x human fem reader 18+

-> warnings/tags: 18+, rough-ish sex, size difference, tummy bulge.

-> minors dni, you will be blocked!

i’ve been out of writing for 4+ years so may be a little rusty!! (pls be gentle with me) i intend to write a big fic with mtmte megatron but i needed to get the nsfw brainworms out of my head asap <3 also, i posted this before, but didn't realise tumblr would block ppl from seeing it if nsfw was in the tags - so i'm reuploading it!

────୨ৎ────

It would be a long, challenging, and tiring fight when the mutineered members of the Lost Light rallied against the DJD. Without Megatron, you all would have undoubtedly perished at the end of Tarn’s fusion cannon. You, especially, were truly unable to do anything but hide away in the deceased Necrobot’s home like some sheltered and helpless pet and plead with a higher power that Megatron and the others would be brought back to you.

You were sitting perched on the edge of a desk in a tucked-away surveillance room on the far end of this maze-like place, somewhere Megatron had deposited you before leaving to ensure that you were as safe as could be without him there to supervise.

The skin around your nails was starting to splinter off from how much you had been picking at it, suspension and dread cascading through your system as every minute felt like an eternity, the silent command in the air to be patient and to stay here as Megatron had implored, leaving you here with nothing but the ghost of his lips pressed against yours before making his hurried leave. You couldn’t bear the thought of that being the last time his lips ever graced yours. The last time you would ever see him.

It took everything within your power not to leap off the edge of the desk when the door you were staring at hissed open, the broad silhouette of Megatron filling the open space, his form engulfing any light that would have spilled into the room. A gasp was trapped in your lungs, and your eyes widened as Megatron allowed himself into the small surveillance room.

“You’re here,” you uttered, almost in disbelief, fingers curling around the edge of the desk as though you would float away into a dream if you were to let go.

“I’m here,” Megatron echoed, stability and calmness in his voice that did not at all convey the actions he had just committed against his former student.

The heavy metal door slid shut behind him, eclipsing the room once more with nothing more than the blue light of the monitors behind you to dimly illuminate the room. The blue light bounced off the dull grey of his metal armour as he closed the distance between the two of you, standing in front of you at his staggering height.

His neck craned down to look at you, your eyes glued to his optics as they had a glassy film to them.

“Mass displace, please,” you whispered, almost uncertainly.

Without a word, he followed your request and his form began to fold in on itself, taking him from 38 feet down to roughly 12 feet, still quite a lot bigger than you, but more manageable.

His right servo skimmed over your left hand, both hands still clenching to the edge of the desk, a mute request that you understood, unclasping your hand and allowing him to thread his digits in between your fingers. His other servo came up to gently push a strand of hair behind your ear, moving to cup the back of your head as his helm lowered.

“Did I not promise that I would make it back to you?” He softly whispered against your lips. Your unoccupied hand cupped his cheek, half-lidded eyes falling shut before you made the final movement that allowed your lips to come together.

Even mass displaced, it felt a little awkward to kiss a being that was nearly triple your height, but you had become so accustomed to loving this titan that you couldn’t imagine it any other way. Albeit, your recreational activities were made much easier thanks to the handiwork of Brainstorm, who so kindly created a mass displacement device for you after your perpetual nagging.

“And I never would have forgiven you if you broke that promise,” you hushed into his intake between intermittent breaks of your lips.

The servo that was tangled with your fingers pulled away and instead gripped on the outside of your knee, snaking underneath so that he could hoist your leg up over his hip plating, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk and causing your skirt to slip further up your legs.

“Now we can’t be having that,” the digits tangled in your hair tightening slightly, “can we?”

You huffed a laugh, both arms winding their way around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as he arched over, accounting for the difference in his height.

“I want you,” you stated simply, hips betraying your self-control by slightly grinding against the front of his panels without your explicit intention to do so, your lips capturing his again.

“Now?” he smirked against the kiss, the air of the long battle already leaving him, only now engrossed in this very moment with you.

“Right now,” you sounded almost breathless, but your hand was on its determined path to find his servo that was holding your leg, tugging at it so that you could lead him where you wanted him. Without hesitation, you guided his servo to disappear under the material of your skirt, your small and skillful fingers singling out only his middle digit as you pressed it up against your clit through your underwear, “and right here.”

A hum rumbled in his vocaliser as he used the flat pad of his middle digit to rub against your covered clit, the kiss deepening as you felt his glossa peek out to run across your bottom lip.

He started with slow circles, making your back arch slightly as you let out a shaky breath through your nose. His finger was larger than you were used to when he’s using the mass displacement device, meaning he couldn’t be as precise as normal, but that didn’t take away from the heat coursing through you at his touch.

Changing his tune, he started to rub long lines up and down, past your clit and against your slit before making his way back up. You whimpered slightly and your fingers clutched onto his chassis.

“Just like that,” you cooed, encouraging him to continue.

The metal under your hands started to heat up as you noticed that you were getting wetter from his delicate petting.

The servo that wasn’t moving between your legs moved to grasp at the material of your top, near where it was tucked into the waistband of your skirt. Strong digits pulled the material up, freeing it from your skirt, and hoisted it up over your chest.

Your hands parted from his frame, doing the rest of the legwork to pull your top up over your head, hesitantly pulling away from his intake to allow yourself to do so. You swung the top to the left of you, letting it fall down to the ground.

With hunger, you greedily took his mouth again, hands more frantic as they now snaked up around the back of his neck, letting your nails mildy graze the cabling that you found there.

The sound that left his vocaliser was divine, your lips pulling into a smirk as you continued to twist your nimble fingers into the intricate layout of his wiring.

His middle finger worked around the edge of your underwear, pushing it to the side so that he had unrestricted access to you. Without a moment of warning, he pushed his digit inside of you, the blunt tip of it making a harsher entrance than when you take the tapered tip of his spike.

You moaned into his mouth at the intrusion, bringing your other leg up to dangle over his hip, offering yourself more freely to him.

His servo wrapped around the small of your back, resting there to keep you as close to him as he could whilst still allowing his digit to work magic inside of you. He curled the tip up, finding the spongy part of your walls that made you see stars when he tended to it real good.

“Please don’t stop,” you pleaded against his mouth, pulling away from his lips for the first time properly to throw your head back, his movements quickening, beckoning you to the finish line.

“How could I refuse when you beg so sweetly?” He mused, lowering his helm further to tuck in between your shoulder and neck, letting his intake latch onto you there and kiss you fervently.

The way he was bent over your form was almost comical; he was still just so large, and a part of you cursed yourself for not bringing the mass displacement device. Who would’ve thought you’d need it?

Your arousal was coating his digit, each second getting easier and easier to slip in and out of you as he worked you further up the scale.

The room was filled with the subtle sound of the monitors buzzing, your weak mewls, and the wet sound of him driving in and out of you, your wetness seeping in between the joints of his digit, something he’ll thoroughly enjoy cleaning with his glossa later.

Your right hand moved away from his neck, skimming down the front of his chassis as you reached his hip plating. You ghosted your fingers over the front panel that was concealing his spike, a gentle thrumming coming from the area, a tell-tale sign that he was aching behind it.

“Open up for me,” you ordered sweetly.

“A-Are you sure?” Megatron retorted, lips halting against your neck and pulling back slightly to meet your eyes, skeptical, as he was well aware of his size right now.

“Please show me your spike,” you looked down to his lips, “I can feel how bad you want it.”

Without a word, you heard the subtle hiss of his panel retracting, allowing his spike to protrude out. You made an effort to lean back and look at it, not seeing it at this size since the first time you tried (and failed) to fuck him, before Brainstorm gave you the mass displacement device.

“Look at how worked up you are,” you teased, running your soft fingers up his length, collecting the leaking transfluid that spilled out of the tip, “would you like help with that?”

You wrapped your hand around his girth, noting how your fingers couldn’t touch. His cooling fans clicked on as his helm nodded, but only shallowly.

“Say it,” you pressed.

“I want- I want you to help,” he confirmed, digit never ceasing to falter inside of you.

You gave a victorious smile and rolled your head, and you pumped his length languidly, making his frame shudder. With a newfound determination, his ministrations inside of your cunt became more desperate, eager to have you squeezing around his digit.

Leaning back slightly, bringing your other hand to place behind you on the desk to keep you stabilised, you looked up into his burning red optics. The eye contact had him hot and bothered, if his rapid cooling system was anything to go by. He loved the way your muscles flexed around the width of his digit.

His digit drove in and out of you like it was the last thing he would do. Your toes curled as you could feel yourself getting dangerously close to cumming, your wrist faltering slightly, focus derailed by how much pleasure he was giving you at this moment.

“Megatron,” you moaned, body tensing and back arching. His lips parted slightly, utterly enamored with the sight of you.

And just like that, you felt the waves take you as your brain fizzled with stars, cunt tightening around him and the moan that left your lips left no room for doubt that you had definitely just cum for him.

You panted slightly, holding onto his spike tighter as you tried to lead him closer to you with it.

He got the hint, pulling his digit from you, allowing your underwear to move back into place slowly and he gently rested the weight of his cock on top of your cunt. You gyrated your hips against the underside of him, giving him a clear indication of what you wanted.

Okay, this could work, he thought.

Both of his servos gripped your hips as you lowered yourself down onto both elbows. Your legs wrapped around his hips now as best you could, but with the size difference, your legs couldn’t reach each other.

Experimentally, he gave a thrust, pulling and pushing his spike against the friction of your underwear, catching your clit on the way. Your skirt was completely bunched up by your hips now, it probably would’ve been better to take it off completely, but you had no desire to halt this moment.

You angled your hips up so that he was at an angle where his spike would glide so wonderfully against your slit. The wet patch grew in your underwear as the pressure of his heavy spike teased you, your body still a little overstimulated from your previous orgasm.

He ex-vented, all of his pent-up energy expelling from him gradually as his hips picked up the pace, optics locking onto your chest, which was still covered by your bra. Even with the coverings, you still bounced beautifully as he manhandled your body.

Adjusting your legs, you brought them further to your chest so that you could lock your thighs around his spike, the balls of your feet resting on his chassis.

“Primus have mercy,” you heard Megatron mumble under his breath, barely concealed by the fans regulating his heat.

You squeezed the muscles of your thighs, peering down to where his spike appeared and disappeared between your legs, feeling the material of your underwear sticking to you from the wetness building.

Megatron’s strong servos gripped your hips harder, causing a whine to bend in your throat. You couldn’t help when your hips bucked, desperate for the feel of him.

His hot pink transfluid that wept from his tip leaked onto your thighs, smearing like a beautiful piece of art as he continued to thrust, your body his canvas.

As if you would vanish if he didn’t keep himself grounded, he pulled your hips onto him to meet his thrusting, your weight meaning essentially nothing to him. He used your thighs and reveled in the soft feel of them, so plush and giving.

You couldn’t help another moan escaping you as he thrust particularly hard against your clit, the sight of his beautiful silver spike with red accents causing your brain to momentarily freeze. You couldn’t control your need for him.

“Put it in and fuck me,” you said, determination littered throughout your tone.

“My love-” he started, hips staggering with the thought of being stuffed inside of you, but his tone showed a level of wariness.

“I can take it,” you insisted, “I promise I can take it.”

And you were sure that you could. Yeah, maybe you couldn’t take it the very first time. But how many times, since having the device,  has he fucked you now? You were sure that your body would be far better prepared to take him now.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he hesitated, peering down at the size of his spike against the size of your legs, he wasn’t certain it would fit.

“And if it hurts, I’ll tell you,” you reasoned with him, “then you can stop. But please, Megatron, I need you inside of me.”

You pulled your legs away from him, maneuvering your body to sit up so that you could unclasp your bra hurriedly, discarding it into the same area you threw your top to.

Megatron watched your body, spike bobbing with a burning ache. Who was he to deny you of something that he also so desperately wanted?

Gingerly, he tucked his hands into the elastic of your underwear by your hips, looking into your eyes for more approval, which he found in abundance. With that, he pulled the flimsy material down your legs.

Rather than chucking them with the rest of your clothing, he opened up a subspace and put the underwear in there for ‘safekeeping’.

A giggle left you as you grabbed his spike again, “saving those for later?”

“When I’m through with you,” he allowed you to line his spike with your entrance, “you won’t have enough energy for later.”

That promise was enough for you, feeling a pulse beat through your clit, your eyes gleaming with excitement.

Carefully, he started to push his tip into you, bringing his servos down to wrap around your waist. Like this, the tips of his fingers nearly touched.

Your body instinctively made your back arched as he began to spread you open on him. Your hands came to grab onto his forearms for something to keep you centered as you lowered your back onto the cold surface of the metal desk.

More and more, he slowly eased his ridiculous length into you, taking the very air from your lungs as you felt there was no end to him. He would continue to move into you forever.

His thumbs caressed your ribcage soothingly, “you’re doing so well, my sweet girl.”

“Fuck,” you huffed, eyebrows threading together as your mouth dropped open.

“Nearly there.”

“Mmhm, yeah, keep talking me through it,” you said with a wry smile, only half joking.

You felt the warm metal of his hips against the underside of your thighs.

Fuckfuckfuck, you felt so full. You swore you could feel him in your lungs.

“Look at you, look at how well you take me now,” Megatron praised, and despite his confident demeanour, the threads of his mind were also fraying at the edges from how amazing you felt. Tightness on a different kind of level.

You whined at that, body tingling with excitement as you flittered your eyes to look at his optics, which you noticed were glued down to where the two of you connected.

Moaning, he pulled out before sheathing himself back in. The self-restraint he was showing right now was impressive, but it wasn’t want you wanted.

“I want you to fuck me like you mean it,” you uttered up to him.

Like a dam breaking at the words, he fulfilled your wish. He held onto you and then started to rut into you with reckless abandon, making you give out those sweet pleases and mores and ah-ah-ahs.

He was so big, so much bigger than anything you’d ever taken, but your body accommodated him so nicely.

A moan was caught in your throat, your head thrown back with your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he bulldozed a path through you, demanding that your body bends to his very will.

“Primus, you are… you are so tight,” his deep voice rumbled, “so tight and so needy.”

One servo left your waist, instead grabbing onto your ankle to pull your leg up, allowing more room for him. His servos kept you steady, but this angle had him bullying his spike right against your g-spot. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth because the sounds you were making were downright sinful, you could hardly believe they were coming from you.

You were spread to your very limit on him, he took every inch inside of you and there was no room for anything else.

“No,” Megatron let out, “I want to hear you moan for me.”

Your whole body was radiating heat as you trembled, your hands left your mouth at his request, and one went to find the servo still wrapped around your waist, gripping it as if it could keep you within this realm of reality. Your other hand lowered to the desk, nails scratching against the surface.

Tears pooled in the corner of your eyes as the pleasure was sending you trigger-happy. Your pussy so hot, slick, and throbbing for him, milking against the solid metal of his spike, begging for his release.

The servo that was on your leg moved to the back of your head, lifting it slightly and angling it down so that you could look at the mess that was growing between your legs.

Oh, my good god.

He was so big, and it looked like a monster against you.

“Look at how much of a mess you’re making on me,” he chided.

You could see the milky whiteness of your pleasure pooling at the base of his spike like a ring, making the whole scene a diluted pink with his transfluid. You let out an involuntary moan at the sight.

“Scream, scream for me and scream my name,” he commanded, but his tone was far from demanding, more like begging. He needed to hear it. Needed to hear his name fall from your pretty lips.

“Megatron!” You obeyed, eyes growing foggy with tears until you could blink, pushing the tears over the edge and down your cheeks, “Megatron, please, fuck!” Your voice strained, tone raising an octave or two.

All rational thought dissipated from your mind, leaving you as if you never had any to begin with. All you could think about was him, his spike, and how you could see him in your stomach.

The baby hairs on your head stuck to your forehead as you began to overheat, ears filling with the sound of metal slapping against your skin and Megatron’s low moans and grunts.

Every time he pulled out and pushed back in, it was as if he was activating a chemical reaction in your body that drove you further into ecstasy. Your screams and moans were loud and unabashed, praying to a higher power that none of the crew were anywhere near this room, as they most certainly would have heard what the two of you were up to.

Both of his servos now grasped onto an ankle each, forcing your legs to spread wider. His helm was thrown back as his mind focused on the only task of carving your walls to the shape of him.

Your hand moved down your body, settling over where you could see him inside of you and pressing down on it.

It felt otherworldly to take him at this size. You weren’t sure if you could fuck regularly like this, as you could only imagine how sore you’ll be after this, but every now and then couldn’t hurt, right?

His voicebox glitched as he moaned, optics offlining for half a second. God, it was so sexy to hear him like that. Having him as putty in your hands as he drove his spike in and out of you like it’s the only thing he was built for.

“I’m-” he began, processor working overtime, “I’m gonna overload.”

You mewled in a high pitch tone, “please, inside, insideinsideinside,” you pleaded, “fill me up. Fuck, think about how full I’ll be with your transfluid.”

Your voice shook as your legs trembled in his grasp, your own orgasm not far off.

His intake moved towards your right ankle, pressing his lips against it as he moaned, the vibrations running down your leg as his hips began to falter, he was so close the finish line could almost taste it, like the sweetest engex he’s ever had the pleasure of consuming.

With a cry of your name, you felt the hot sensation of his thick transfluid fill the cavity of your cunt, painting your insides a beautiful hot pink, his biolights pulsing with colour whilst he was buried all the way inside of you.

The mental image of how much fluid was just dumped inside of you took your right over the tophat with him, eyes clenching shut as your body quivered, white heat pulsing through your veins as you let out a weak cry for him, announcing your climax.

Gradually, his cooling fans started to decrease as you lay beneath him, catching your breath as best you could whilst you had that monster still lodged inside of you.

His left servo came under your back to support you as he slowly pulled himself out, leaving the bottom half of your body limp. With hazy eyes, you looked for him and gave a weak smile, too fucked out of your mind for anything else.

Megatron leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, spike retracting back into his interface panel. You’d have to make sure he cleaned it properly later.

“Did so good for me,” he complimented you, “all mine.”

A hum of approval sounded from you, “all yours.”

Transfluid leaked out of you now, some catching on the desk whilst the majority of it gushed over the edge and dripped to the floor. You would definitely have to clean up before you left this room, but you weren’t sure if there was anything in here you could actually use to clean it.

As if reading your mind, Megatron raised himself from you and clambered on top of the desk next to you, “we’ll clean up later.”

He lifted you from the surface and into his arms, lowering himself so that he was lying flat on the desk, bringing you down to lay on his chassis. Your cheek rested against his Autobot insignia, delicate fingers coming up to trace the elegant markings on his plating.

Your body would definitely ache in the morning, but you couldn’t think about that as he was running a servo over your back gently, lulling you into sleep.